Someone Else's Dream
by freak of nature6
Summary: Burketina indulgence. Forget Grey's Anatomy, this is Bang's Anatomy, as it should be, and follows their relationship. There is angst, romance, dirty scrabble, reflection, spontaneity, and never a quiet moment. Please r&r, and enjoy!
1. In Too Deep

A/N This is purely an indulgence thing. The most fantastic thing about fanfiction is being able to get inside the character's heads, in a way that TV prohibits. And I love doing that! And if other people love reading that, so much the better! This starts mid-late season 2, loosely guided by the events of the show, but of course, this is BANGS anatomy, so everyone else is just an extra, with Cristina and Burke on centre stage. The only AU thing I've done is that George and Meredith never slept together. Because I didn't want him hanging around the apartment, intruding on my domestic Burketina scenes  Enjoy.

"Whose the freaking woman in this relationship?" Cristina cursed under her breath as she stuffed her feet into her sneakers. She thumped her fist on the bathroom door. "I'm going!" she yelled, not waiting for a response as she dashed out of the apartment. She knew he'd seek her out at the hospital at the first available moment, to ask why they've reverted back to this: back to her leaving when he's in the shower, or still asleep. He thought they'd left it behind months ago.

His opportunity came late that morning, when she was delivering a patient's lab results to Bailey. He fell into step beside her. "I'm busy," she said briskly.

"And I'm just about to perform a triple bypass because I have nothing better to do."

She glanced up at him quickly. "Whose scrubbing in?"

"I thought you were busy."

"Busy is a relative term."

He chuckled. "Grey's got this one. This morning felt uncomfortably familiar."

"Meaning?" she asked impatiently, as he followed her into the elevator.

"Meaning, you haven't left without saying goodbye for months." He removed his glasses, and began to clean them.

Cristina watched his fingers move over the lenses, nimble and precise. "I yelled through the door. I didn't want to interrupt your beauty routine. You know that's the second morning in a row I haven't been able to have a shower because you've been in there too long?"

"You shouldn't confide your lack of hygiene to the man you're sleeping with."

"Whatever. What the hell were you doing in there, anyway? You don't shave your legs. You have barely any hair to wash."

He grinned at her obvious annoyance. "The astounding attractiveness of the specimen you see before you takes time, I'm afraid. But can we return to the matter at hand? You've been distant lately."

The elevator doors opened, and Cristina hastily stepped in. "I have to go."

"Can't it wait?" he asked, exasperated.

"Bailey? Are you kidding?"

The elevator doors closed, and she sighed in relief.

When Meredith sat down next to her at lunch, she asked, "I thought you were scrubbing in on a triple bypass?"

"It got moved to mid-afternoon. What's going on between you two?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do." Meredith watched her friend closely, as she savagely bit into her sandwich. "His mood has become progressively worse all day. Can't you save your fights for the days that Alex is assigned to him?"

Cristina smirked. "Sure. I'll withhold sex for a whole week, that'll get him worked up. Then Alex will get what's coming to him."

"So, that's what this is about? You're withholding sex? Should I get you some knitting needles, you can join me in my celibacy?"

"My sex life is fine, thanks. And we didn't fight. I'm just avoiding him. Constantly. And he's pissed about that."

"But things have been going well. You just told him you loved him last week. You know, when he was actually awake."

"Exactly."

"Huh?" Meredith asked, slurping down her milk. Cristina was still a riddle at times.

"I told him to 'be the other guy.' I gave up my apartment. I told him I loved him. We've been living in happy couple land the past little while, and suddenly I realized: I've gotten in too deep, Mer. I let my guard down! What the hell is wrong with me? There's got to be a diagnosis for this."

"Crazy in love," Izzie concluded as she banged her tray down.

Cristina gave her a dirty look. "Don't ever liken my life to a Beyonce song again."

"Oh, you know I'm right. You're scared by the depth of your feeling for him, so you're backing off."

"Have you gone all Dr. Love because of that heart patient guy?"

"So far Denny and I haven't progressed beyond dirty scrabble games. It's fun. You should try it with Burke, if you're having trouble communicating."

"Great," Meredith chimed in, rising up from the table. "I have to go scrub in with the man. Now all I'm going to be able to think about is Burke playing dirty scrabble."

"This celibacy thing is making you crazy!" Cristina yelled at her retreating back.

Groaning at Izzie's knowing expression, she swept her hair up into its clip. "I've got to prep a girl for a C-section. Have fun in the pit."

As Cristina completed her post-op notes that evening, she glanced up at the board. Burke's surgery was finished, meaning he'd already be at home. She sighed, and sought out Bailey.

"Dr. Bailey, do you need me to be on call tonight?"

Bailey looked up from a patient's chart, and surveyed her most competitive intern. "You've already been on call two nights this week. Why are you volunteering for a third?"

"It's easiest to get the best cases when there's less competition for them. I've been scrubbing in on pretty routine stuff lately."

Bailey glared at her. "Nice line. I won't be a part of whatever reason you don't want to go home."

"It's not-"

"No! I had all of Grey's dramas with Shepherd last year, I won't go through it again with you and Burke, oh no. Have you done your post-op notes?"

"Yes," Cristina answered reluctantly.

"Then get out of here."

Cursing under her breath, she stormed into the locker room. George was humming under his breath as he pulled his jacket on.

"Be quiet, Bambi," she snapped as she stripped her scrubs off. George habitually averted his eyes as she changed, but asked, "why are you in such a good mood?"

"Why are _you_?" she bit back.

"I was in on a transplant surgery with the chief."

"Great. I got to do a C-section with the She-Shepherd." She slammed her locker closed, and threw her things into her bag.

"See you tomorrow!" George called after her, smiling knowingly.

As Cristina rode home, she debated in her head just _why _she was avoiding Burke. He'd been nothing but good to her, after all. And she'd never been so paralyzed by the fear of losing someone as she had when the bomb was in the OR. He loved her instinctively – when Hannah had removed her hand, he'd automatically pulled her to the ground with him. Protecting her was an unconscious thing for him.

It was all about control. Ever since escaping her painful childhood home, Cristina had reveled in the feeling that she controlled her life, her destiny. She worked her ass off at college. She was naturally smart, but she built on that and applied herself in her studies – it was all she did. Forget relationships, forget friendships. She was going to be top of her class at Stanford, dammit. She always knew it. She was in control.

At Seattle Grace, she had stiff competition. Meredith had just as much aptitude as she did, and a much better bedside manner. Izzie excelled on specific cases, and all the patients loved George. Even Alex had his moments. But she was still Cristina, she was still determined, and gifted. She could control just how far she went, how much she excelled at surgeries, how many opportunities she grabbed at. She'd had a careful path mapped out in her head, ever since she arrived at Seattle Grace. And she would follow it.

Falling for Burke was something so far out of her control, it shook her completely. She was embarrassed, when he witnessed her loss of control over Liz Fallon's death. Instinctively, she wanted a life saved. She was a doctor. Burke had to physically restrain her. When he sought her out to comfort her in the stairwell, all she could focus on why his nearness suddenly clouded her head.

Groaning, Cristina turned her bike around. Soon, she sat on a corner stool at Joe's throwing back a beer. She couldn't face him yet. Not so out of control.

She remembers that day, Meredith's judgment day, the day after the party, when Burke came clean with the chief about the towel…she remembers. Helping Meredith prepare what to say, that she'd planned. Being prepared to comfort or congratulate her on the outcome, that was also in Cristina's head.

What wasn't planned was seeking Burke out after she discovered how he'd effectively saved Meredith's career. How he was honourable and honest, after all, on top of being a near-perfect surgeon. What wasn't planned was her locking the door, and what followed after. She remembers the feel of his mouth on her, his hands – those incredible hands, gifted in more ways than one – on her, blazing a trail on her skin, building a fire inside of her. She kept going back for more, even when she saw what happened between Meredith and Shepherd.

It wasn't supposed to hurt when he broke up with her, or when she lost the baby. She didn't foresee herself moving in with him, or giving up her apartment. It just happened. Every time she began to get comfortable, he moved forward, and compelled her to follow him.

She followed him, grudgingly, until she suddenly realized just how much control he'd taken from her. She'd fallen from sanity, from the plan – she'd fallen in love! How could she let that happen? She'd been blindsided by fear of losing him, and let the depth of her feeling slip.

Reality rudely confronted her with the fact that she, Cristina Yang, was no longer independent. She no longer had control, had autonomy. There was another that she couldn't live without. So maybe that's what her avoidance was about. Trying to prove to herself that she did still have some control. She could still live without him.

If she spent too much time around him, she'd realize how little control she had. Groaning, Cristina took a long swig of beer.

A/N Next chapter, Burke's back, in a much bigger way. And for all the female Burketina writers out there, whilst Cristina is awesome, it really is all about Burke  Please r&r, I really appreciate feedback!


	2. Willing to Give it a Try

A/N So, we had the angst last chapter, I thought it was time for a little fun this time around. Enjoy!

**Chapter Two: Willing to Give it a Try**

"If I kept the liquor cabinet well-stocked, would you come home sooner?" came a familiar voice. Cristina didn't need to turn her head to know that Burke was sitting down beside her. She sensed him shrug off his jacket. _Don't look at him _she commanded herself. That's what he wants. To melt your resolve. To make you follow him even further down this ridiculous road called love.

"Depends. What sort are we talking?"

"Beer, or course. Also vodka, and an increasing fondness for tequila, which seems to be the byproduct of being best friends with Meredith Grey."

His keen observance was what made him such a talented surgeon. As well as an appealing boyfriend, and lover. Cristina mused on the fact that he barely ever came into Joe's. He went home and played trumpet. He cooked. He watched C-SPAN, and read Proust and Capote, but he didn't down a beer with buddies at Joe's. That was her thing.

Burke signaled for Joe, and ordered bourbon. "I just spent the last two hours listening to a Bon Jovi album. And I will never get those two hours of my life back."

Cristina grinned reluctantly, at the thought of Burke listening to her favourite 80s band. He was a jazz man, a classical man. Not a rock man.

"Why would you want those two hours back?"

"I appreciate musicianship, not men with mullets in tight leather pants, obsessed with characters called Tommy and Gina, who seem to make their way into every song."

"God, you were listening hard. Their lyrics mean something, you know."

"You'll have to explain that one to me," he said, leaning in towards her, as the noise in Joe's turned up a notch. As the bar bustled around them, Cristina watched Burke sip on his bourbon.

"'Living on a prayer?' It's a song about trusting, about taking a leap of faith. That's something we do in the O.R every day."

"And can you do that with me?" he asked, not missing a beat.

Cristina hesitantly met his eyes. They were dark, serious, boring into her at that moment. Seeing straight through her. She settled her gaze on his hands, grasping his bourbon glass. They seemed like a safer place. Seeing his familiar strong grip, she unwound a little. Reaching out to nudge his fingers, they slowly entwined with hers. "Let's go home."

She knew Burke assumed they'd be heading straight to bed – she'd been that tired lately. So when she grinned at him expectantly, he raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What?"

"Want to play a game?"

He eyed her. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

She grinned, and momentarily disappeared around the corner. Burke shrugged to himself, and sat down on the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes. She soon interrupted his reverie.

"Explain to me again why we're doing this?" he grumbled ten minutes later.

"It's a particular pastime of Izzie's, and I thought it sounded like fun."

"Of course you did. This from the girl who likes strip poker."

"This from the guy who's too chicken to play against me, because he knows he'll lose." She furrowed her brow in concentration for a moment, then laid out the word 'doggy', on the board.

Burke failed miserably at suppressing a smile. She knew exactly what was going on in his head at that moment. "What fond memories you'll have of your first year internship," he commented, as he pondered his next move in their 'dirty scrabble' game.

She snorted. "Oh yeah, real fond. The first time we tried that particular position in an on-call room, Bailey came banging on the door when I wasn't answering my pager."

"Well, lucky I answered the door with my best 'angry boss' face on. Ah. Inspiration strikes." Burke lay out the word 'banging,' and Cristina burst out laughing. "Preston Burke, top of your class, top of your field, and that's the best you can come up with?"

"I used all of my letters, Dr. Yang. I haven't seen you do the same."

"You know better than to challenge me, Dr. Burke."

"Oh I do, do I? I think we should up the stakes a little."

"Bring it on."

"The highest point scorer at the conclusion of the game gets to do whatever they want to the other person tonight, for however long they want."

"Oh, you are going to be tired tomorrow, aren't you Preston?"

"And," he continued, leaning back and folding his hands together. "Whenever a spare moment arises for the both of us tomorrow, the loser _will _answer the winner's page, and this will continue in an on-call room."

With steely determination, Cristina lay out 'straddle' over a double word score. "Make sure your pager has a fresh battery tomorrow," she said with a smug grin.

Two of Seattle's most brilliant minds were engaged in an hour long battle of wits and intelligence that night. Not for the purpose of saving lives, or performing a difficult surgery. This time, it was just for love.

And triumph, Cristina added to herself, as she eyed off her lover. He'd need a killer word to beat her. But still, she had to admit, it was possible he would.

His face was impassive as he surveyed the board, and his letters.

He cleared his throat. "And, for his final move…" he swiftly gathered up his letters, and lay them with precision on the board. Cristina felt her jaw drop as he lay the word 'climax' across a triple word score. "That x is really going to help," he said with a grin, and tallied his score.

'The verdict is in!" he announced. "You lost by four, Yang."

"Congratulations," she grumbled.

He smirked. "Go get into that purple negligee of yours."

Rolling her eyes, she left the room wordlessly. She hated losing. Despised it. It was another thing out of her control.

Still, she mused as she changed in the bathroom, it wasn't such a bad fate that awaited her…

"Good morning!" Izzie chirped the next morning as she strode into the locker room.

"I hate you," Cristina shot back venomously, from where she was laying flat on her back on the floor, hands covering her eyes.

"Why are you in such a cheerful mood this morning?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Meredith answered. She was still having trouble with the image of Burke the sexual predator, and didn't want to hear the story again. Still, she figured that was the last time Cristina would heed an idea of Izzie's for a while.

"I'm wrecked," George announced, yawning as he entered the locker room. "I only got three hours sleep in the on-call room last night."

Cristina rolled her eyes, and sat up as Bailey came in. She'd had 67 minutes sleep last night. She'd timed it.

"Are we all here? Good. Get off the floor, Yang. O'Malley, you're down in the pit. The rest of you, come with me."

The day started at its usual explosive pace. They managed to avoid running into gurneys and other staff members as they followed Bailey's brisk pace into the first patient's room. Bailey exchanged a few words with the patient, one middle-aged Greg Simmons, when Burke strode into the room. Cristina glowered at him, and though his face betrayed no emotion, his eyes were laughing at her.

"Whose presenting?" Bailey asked, looking between Cristina and Alex, knowing they'd both examined his chart.

Cristina let Alex jump in. No way was she spending the day basking in his arrogance. "Grey Simons, 52, came in last night having suffered a mild heart attack…"

Cristina kept her eyes firmly downward, and was relieved when she continued on her way with Bailey.

"Grey, you're with Shepherd. Stevens and Yang, come with me."

She spent the morning wheeling around a whiny pre-pubescent girl for tests. She kept moving in the tube, and they had to do her CAT scan three times. And Izzie abandoned her midmorning to go and check on Denny, so she was going it alone.

At lunch, Cristina collapsed beside Meredith. "I hate kids."

"Amen to that."

"Tell me your morning was sucky."

"I was in on a craniotomy."

Cristina glowered, shoving handfuls of potato chips in her mouth. "I hate you!"

"Thank you."

"But I hate Burke more. Smug bastard. What if they put me on call tonight, huh? I'll be a walking zombie."

At that precise moment, her pager went off, and she groaned in frustration. She almost seethed when she saw who it was. "Never," she emphasized the word, "let me listen to Isobel Stevens again."

A/N Thanks to everyone who's already reviewed! I'll shamelessly ask that you keep them coming, because every writer loves them, whether they're good or bad.

For anyone that's interested, I've taken the title and some of the chapter names from the song _You Give me Something _by James Morrison. I thought it applied well to Burke and Cristina. Full of good angst.


	3. Can't Work Out What They Mean

A/N So, writing this is just fun. It's admittedly not my most refined piece of writing, but after having to do so much reworking and drafting in my creative writing classes, coming home and just indulging in Bang fics, where the ideas and writing come quickly, is awesome. I hope you guys are enjoying it!

**Chapter Three: Can't Work Out What They Mean. **

Cristina was fuming as she stalked the halls of the hospital. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she spending her first year internship answering booty calls from an attending? Life with Burke was a lot of things, but quiet was not one of them. Even going out on a simple dinner date was an ordeal for them.

Their first date was a disaster, and was only saved when a man had a heart attack. It meant they could spring into familiar territory. The next time he decided they should try an 'official' date again was months later. They'd just been casually hanging out at his apartment in their time outside of the hospital up until then.

It happened just after New Year. She'd just moved in with him – not entirely at this point, but he didn't know that. He'd cornered her after she was rinsing off after surgery.

"Both of us get off at a relatively sane hour tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." She grabbed a paper towel to dry her arms.

"How would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night?"

She paused mid-wipe. She'd only started sleeping over at his (_moved in_, she mentally corrected herself) four days ago, and now he wanted to do this dating thing again.

"Are you suffering from short term memory loss? Do you remember what happened last time?"

Burke chuckled, as she threw the towel in the bin. "If I recall, you said it was the best date you'd ever been on."

"And are you planning on engineering another medical emergency to bail us out this time?"

"We've come a long way since then, Cristina."

She relented. "Fine. But you don't get to comment on my wine choice this time around."

So Meredith sat on the floor, with her back against the lockers, complaining about her non-existent love life, as Cristina wriggled into her hot black dress. She surveyed the slit up the side. Well, at least she looked like a knock-out.

"This is a bad idea," she grumbled, as she released her hair from its clip.

"He's been your boyfriend for months now. It's just a date. Relax. You've already been for your test-run and passed. Just have fun."

Cristina gave her a grudging smile. "Thanks." She quickly stepped into her black pumps. "He's waiting for me outside. I've got to go."

"Call me later so I can live vicariously through you," Meredith's voice trailed after her.

Burke, ever the gentleman, opened doors for her, and pulled out the chair for her, at the somewhat charming (_somewhat charming? What the hell was wrong with her?) _Italian restaurant he'd taken her to. He comfortably shrugged off his blazer and laid it on the chair. She glanced at how his dark dress shirt enhanced his broad shoulders, but quickly averted her eyes to examine the menu.

"I figured there's no steak or lobster here, so we won't need to argue over the wine," Burke began.

"We weren't arguing; you just told me what I could and couldn't do," Cristina replied swiftly. Was that too blunt? She was always honest, and direct. But it somehow seemed jarring in this setting. She managed a smile to show she was well-intentioned, and Burke smiled backed.

"What looks appealing on the menu?"

"Everything," she replied, her stomach growling. "I was in surgery over lunch today, and the vending machine food didn't really tie me over."

"No kidding," he replied disapprovingly.

Cristina was amused at his newfound habit of trying to instill her with healthy eating habits. She glanced up at him, but he was distracted, his gaze fixed on something behind Cristina.

She followed his gaze, and saw a couple having dinner. "Friends of yours?"

He glanced at them a moment longer, and then looked back at Cristina. "I don't know him. Sarah's an old girlfriend."

Cristina paused, careful not to let her body betray her surprise. Burke was mostly an open book to her, but this was the first mention of his past love life.

"Oh. You haven't seen her for a while?"

"Not since we broke up, maybe two years ago. That was my last serious relationship. We were together for three years."

_Three years. Major holy commitment, Batman. _"Why'd it end?"

"She's a lawyer, so of course she understands hard work, to a certain extent; but she grew tired of being second priority. It's hard, trying to make a relationship succeed with someone who doesn't understand what you do all day long."

"Yeah. Izzie had a boyfriend last year, but it fell apart because of that. Though it may have been the distance thing."

"But Bailey's been married ten years, so maybe there is hope."

"Well, why don't you go over there and tell Sarah that?"

_Crap, _Cristina cursed a moment later. Why did she let that slip?

Burke's face twisted into a curious smile, though they were interrupted by the waiter. After they ordered, he asked, "are you jealous, Cristina?"

"Of an old girlfriend? Please."

"You just seem a little…tense."

"Why should I be tense? Take a good look at what you've got, Burke. I have no reason to be insecure."

"You're right, you don't. And I'm always looking."

He eyed her over his wine glass, and she met his gaze. She knew it, that he was often looking. His gaze upon her was one of the most intense things she had ever experienced. It had been her undoing at first, the way he looked at her in the stairwell, after Liz Fallon died. Now, it was mostly a comforting thing, though it could still make her breathless.

The rest of their date was amiable; Cristina was beginning to wonder why she'd been concerned. Then, the most awkward of all circumstances arose: encountering the ex. Burke was about to open the door for Cristina, when they encountered another couple at the exit.

"Hello, Preston," came a female voice, and Cristina glanced up. So, this was the ex. She was taller than Cristina, hardly a mean feat. She had a smooth coffee complexion, a slender form, and black hair swept up elegantly. The woman was a walking Covergirl commercial. Damn her. But as _if _that much cleavage was real.

"Good evening, Sarah," Burke replied smoothly, his hand coming to rest on the small of Cristina's back. "I trust you're well?"

"Quite. Yourself?"

"Oh, yes. Busy as ever."

Sarah smiled, and Cristina felt like punching her, O'Malley style. "I remember. Preston, this is Charles." Burke extended his free hand to shake Charles'.

"Nice to meet you. Sarah, Charles, this is Cristina."

Cristina transferred her glare from venomous to sweet in an instance, and plastered a smile on her face. "Hi there."

"Hi." Sarah held Cristina's gaze for a moment, then smiled up at Burke. "Well, we were just leaving."

"After you," he stepped back graciously to allow them through.

In the car on the way home, Cristina couldn't hold back. "That's _all_? You were with someone for three years, and that's all you have to say to each other? Fake formalities?"

"I'm not sure what it is that's bothering you so much. What would you prefer? That I take her on the table?"

"No," she replied moodily, gazing out the window. "What if we broke up? Is that all you'd say to me?"

She felt a hand come to rest on her knee. "That's not going to happen."

As they stepped into the elevator, Burke pressed the button for the third floor, and glanced over at her. "Ok, its time to get some new thoughts in your head." She didn't have time to blink before she was pressed against the side of the elevator, his mouth hot on hers. She giggled as they stumbled out of the elevator, and he threw his arm out to steady them, finding the wall to keep them upright.

"Perhaps…we should take this inside?" she asked, breathless, as he hungrily explored her neck.

A low growl escaped his throat as he fished in his pocket for his keys, and he impatiently tugged on her hand. Once inside, they didn't even make it out of the kitchen.

As she recalled that night on the way to the on-call rooms, Cristina tried to remind herself that she was angry with him.

A/N Next chapter: Burke is waiting in the on-call room, and Meredith gets an invite to _casa _Bang.

R&R please 


	4. Could Be Nothing

A/N Sorry for slight delay – uni finals are inconveniently getting in the way of Bang. Very rude, I know.

**Chapter Four: Could be Nothing**

Burke was perched serenely on the bed in the on-call room when she stormed in. His head was leant back against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Oh yeah. _You're _tired."

He opened his eyes. "May I remind you that the game was you're idea? And you 'finished' as you like to put it, was it five or six times last night?"

"And I had to start two hours earlier than you!" she sighed, kicking off her shoes. "Fine. What now?"

"Nothing. I was just going to spend the lunch break having a nap, and wondered if you wanted to join me."

Cristina opened her mouth automatically to retaliate, but he was already lying down. Damn him for being considerate. He glanced up at her, his eyes liquid chocolate. "Coming?"

"Whatever," she replied, lying down and refusing to face him. She settled into the familiar circle of his arms. She fell asleep almost instantly. A while later, she came to as his thumb stroked her hip. "Is it time to go?" she mumbled.

"Almost," he replied. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm."

"Good," he moved his hand under her scrubs and pressed it flat on her stomach, almost covering its entire surface area. His fingers began to trace slow, agonizing circles around her belly button.

"So, this whole time you just wanted to grope me in the on-call room?" she asked.

"If you insist," he replied, trailing his hand up to her bra.

He had the hands of a god, she mused, as he took his agonizing time. She felt a familiar tugging at her insides, and her breath began to quicken as he nibbled her ear. "Shall we play again tonight?" he whispered huskily.

"I need to sleep," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I guess I'll just have to make the most of now then." His hand left her breast, and a noise of protest unwillingly escaped from her. He pressed his lips to her neck, as his hand traveled further south.

"My god, you were ready to kill me this morning," Izzie commented as they rinsed their hands, ready to scrub into an appendectomy of the whiny pre-pubescent girl. "And now you're practically humming. PMS much?"

"Not until next week. But maybe your ideas aren't so bad after all."

Izzie raised her eyebrows questioningly, as Cristina backed into the OR.

"You look like hell," Cristina observed that evening, as she and Meredith packed up their things in the locker room.

Meredith yawned. "You did earlier in the day."

"But getting lucky at work does wonders for your complexion. You, on the other hand? You haven't been on call one night this week, why so tired?"

"I haven't been sleeping well, not for a while." Cristina read the subtext. Ever since she had stuck her hand on live ammunition, and saw Dylan, the bomb squad guy, get blown to bits. Ten seconds earlier, and it would have been her.

"Seriously, it's embarrassing. What sort of surgeon has nightmares?"

"Burke wasn't exactly the most peaceful sleeper the first couple of weeks after," Cristina confided carefully. She didn't want to betray a confidence, but she also wanted to comfort her friend. Burke had practically knocked her out one night as he thrashed in his sleep. She knew how heavily the sense of responsibility lay on him, and he would always partially blame himself for that death, even though he saved the patient. That was Burke.

"Yeah, well. I just feel like I'm a downer on everyone, at home at least. Izzie's just obsessed with heart guy Denny, George is developing a thing with an ortho chick, and I'm just this thundercloud of depression. And I hate their happiness, when I just want to mope. Is that bad?"

"No. That's Meredith Grey after a year of sleeping with her boss, finding out McDreamy's married, breaking a guy's penis, and almost blowing up." Cristina hesitated about the right course of action to take. After her and Burke's seeming reconciliation, she didn't feel right blowing him off to go drown Meredith's sorrows at Joe's. But she couldn't just leave her best friend standing there with that look on her face either.

"Hey…why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

Meredith looked up skeptically. "At Burke's?"

"Yes. Mine and Burke's. That way you can see just how freakishly neat he is, so you can empathize when I bitch about it. And he's a good cook."

"He's my boss."

"Oh please. He's my boss too, but I still live with him. And you already slept with one of our bosses. That's so not an excuse."

Meredith shrugged. "Sure, I like pity dinners. But I'm not playing dirty scrabble. Just let me change."

Cristina walked out of the locker room, and pulled out her cell.

"Hello?" Burke answered.

"Hey, its me. Listen, Meredith is all depressed and still a bit freakish after the whole bomb thing, even though it was a little while ago now, and her roommates are too sunny for her, so I invited her over for dinner. I know it's weird, with the whole attendings and interns socializing, but you should see the look on her face."

She was met with silence. "So…is that ok?"

"Of course. I'm just cooking now, so I can add some extra food."

"It's really ok?"

He sighed. "I was just making sure you were done ranting. Cristina, this is your home. You do not need my permission to bring your friends home. But thank you for letting me know."

"Ooookay then." She paused. "We'll see you soon."

"Bye."

They still had stilted conversations like this. They were different, in so many ways, Cristina wondered if it would always be that way.

A/N Angst always has a way of creeping back in when its Cristina and Burke, doesn't it? Keeps it interesting!


	5. You Give Me Something

A/N To everyone that's been reviewing, especially regularly, thank you so much!! You guys make me want to keep posting.

This chapter is dedicated to all the awesome people that hang out at the MTC boards, who are desperate for some happy Bang!

**Chapter Five: You Give Me Something**

"Ready," Meredith emerged, and they walked out of the hospital together. They saw Derek and Addison up ahead climbing into Derek's car, and Meredith rolled her eyes. "I'll follow you to yours."

"Yep."

"Nice going Dr. Burke," Meredith commented as they entered the building, and took the elevator up to the third floor. "The man has taste, Cristina."

She smirked. "Obviously. He's with me, isn't he?"

Cristina led her down the hallway, and into the apartment. She dumped her bag by the door, and motioned for Meredith to do the same. "Hey," she said, walking through to the kitchen, and stopping short at the sight of Burke. She was painfully aware of two separate worlds that were crashing into each other. Meredith was about to see domestic Cristina and Burke, a sight foreign to anyone but them. Until now.

"Good evening," Burke said, clearly more comfortable than her. He leant down to kiss her. "Hi, Meredith," he greeted her over Cristina's head. "Please make yourself comfortable."

"You can just sit on the sofa," Cristina said, and they both went to sit down, Cristina swinging her feet up on the coffee table.

"Can I get you ladies a drink?" he asked.

"Just last night's red," Cristina answered, and Meredith nodded.

"That sounds good. Thanks, Dr. Burke."

"I'll tell you what, Meredith; how about you call me Preston for the night?"

Cristina inwardly cringed at the contrast of their hosting styles. As Burke went to pour them wine, Meredith whispered, "why are you all stiff?"

"I've never been your friend Cristina and Burke's girlfriend Cristina in the same setting before."

"What about me? This isn't my place. I don't know how to act. I take my lead from you."

"Oh please. The first time I went over to yours I barged in, searched through your Mum's boxes, and pulled out her surgical tapes. And you weren't even there."

"Well, do you have any surgical tapes here?"

Cristina paused. "A few of Burke, but we can't watch them casually, like we do yours. He gets all intense, and gives you a running commentary. He'll tell you what he was thinking, and how long it took, and every other inane detail you never wanted to know."

"Sounds annoying."

"Are you kidding? It's totally hot. But you don't need to be here for that. We do have basically every medical journal ever published, arranged according to the Dewey decimal system."

Meredith twisted in her seat. "Let's see them then, as long as the viewings not followed by hot sex afterwards."

Cristina retrieved a pile of journals, and staggered back with them, placing them with a thump on the coffee table. She and Meredith flipped through the first one, side by side on the couch.

"Ah, life as an intern," Burke commented, as he delivered their drinks, and sat opposite them. "It never lets up, does it? When you leave the hospital, all you can think about is going back. And you barely leave."

"It doesn't seem to change that much though. You still think about going back, don't you? And this place is full of journals and textbooks."

Burke grinned. "It's an obsession that continues to grow and thrive. But you should know that, growing up as Ellis Grey's daughter."

"I think I knew it too young. Even my first biology textbook was fascinating."

Cristina glanced up from the excerpt she'd been reading. "The first thing my friends and I did when we took biology in sophomore year was to look at all the pictures of STDs. That was the most interesting part of it for most people. But that was my year my obsession began."

"Oh yeah, we did the STD thing too, those were some cool pictures." Meredith put in.

Burke turned his wine glass in his hands. "I used to think this place would be a haven of high culture. I have my journals, and my classics in the bookshelves. I have my trumpet, and my jazz and classical music. And then this one moves in," he motioned to Cristina.

"You asked me too!" she protested.

"Glad to see we're helping you slum it, Preston!" Meredith exclaimed cheerfully.

Cristina caught Burke's eye, and knew immediately he was thinking about last night. She supposed you could call dirty scrabble 'slumming it.' She hastily dropped her eyes to the journal in her lap, as he rose to get their roast dinner out of the oven.

Cristina automatically crossed to set the table, and Meredith watched the domestic scene with amused interest. Burke placed an array of cooking trays on the counter, and began to serve chicken and vegetables onto their plates. Cristina laid a table cloth, cutlery, napkins and condiments. She also placed a jug of water and three glasses on the table. Meredith shook her head with a smile, and went back to reading an article.

"You can bring the journal to the table if you want, Mere," Cristina told her, as she sat down.

"Which means, dinner is served," Burke added. Cristina shot him a dirty look, and he smiled back serenely.

Burke kept them entertained with stories of his fraternity days, including a lost bet that resulted in a mass streak across campus, at which he commented, "losing bets is a character building exercise, I think." He gaze lingered on Cristina, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, sure. I bet running across campus butt naked is one of your fondest memories."

"It's up there, yes. What wild things happen at Dartmouth, Meredith?"

"Oh, just the usual crazy partying, perhaps being overly fond of tequila." She paused, and Cristina knew she was reflecting on her mother's declining health, something that began to be a burden on her after college, during med school. "But it seems I've caused the most stir during my time as an intern."

Burke raised his glass to her. "It wouldn't be Seattle Grace without drama."

"But why do we as Bailey's interns seem to be at the centre of it?"

Cristina smirked. "Haven't you heard about the E.R interns? They're a regular soap opera."

"One intern was caught sleeping with two nurses, and a fellow intern, in one shift," Burke put in.

"No wonder we have syphilis outbreaks," Meredith mused.

Cristina grinned. "I'm glad we can bring it back to STDs."

As Burke cleared the table, Cristina asked, "want to stay for desert?"

Meredith shook her head, as she helped clear plates. "No thanks, I'm on call tomorrow night, so I should at least try to get some sleep tonight."

"You're not sleeping so well?" Burke asked evenly.

Cristina jerked her head up to see Meredith's reaction. She hesitated. "No. Not since…everything."

Burke nodded, as he rinsed the dishes, and stacked the dishwasher. "Understandable. I still sometimes find myself, standing back there in that O.R…you should see someone about it, if it continues."

Meredith nodded, and Cristina relaxed. "Maybe. I'm just hoping it will pass."

Burke looked up at her. "And perhaps it will. But there's no shame if it doesn't. Even the best surgeons can be haunted by some of the horrors they witness, Meredith. What sets you apart is if you can continue in spite of the ghosts."

"Thank you. For dinner, and everything." Burke smiled at her, then she glanced back at Cristina.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you."

Meredith picked up her bag, and left.

"That was nice," Burke commented, as he continued loading the dishwasher. Cristina studied his face for a moment, then walked over to him.

"Thank you," she said, and in an uncommon show of affection, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his chest. He automatically returned her embrace, and squeezed her gently. "For what?"

She tilted her head back to look up at him. "She needed to hear that from you, I think. You were the only one with her in that O.R the whole time."

Burke glowered. "I _still _can't believe you went to join Shepherd after I asked you to go."

"Would you have been able to just walk away from that floor, knowing I was there?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but acquiesced. "No."

She reached up to touch his face. "Then what makes you think I could do any differently?"


	6. Another Piece Backs Away

**Chapter Six: Another Piece Backs Away**

"I'm sorry, you're complaining about _what _exactly?" Izzie asked Cristina to clarify at lunch one day.

"Things are going smoothly. Smoothly. For Burke and I? That doesn't happen for us, ever. There's always something going on. Does that mean we're in a rut?"

"I think it's cute you care."

Cristina fixed George with a glare. "You did not just call me cute, Bambi."

George just chuckled. "Look, he cares about you a lot. You're lucky."

"Don't let Callie find out you're in love with my boyfriend."

Meredith smirked, and George glared at her. Though his feelings for Meredith seemed to be subsiding, he was still touchy about her commentary on his budding relationship with Callie.

As they were scrubbing in for a surgery that afternoon, Burke glanced over at her. "Something on your mind?"

"Are we in a rut?" she asked abruptly.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically as he lathered his arms. "What would make you think that?"

"Things seem to be sort of…quiet lately. Routine. Nothing's really been happening."

She wasn't sure what he expected his response to be, but she didn't expect him to roll his eyes. "You mean, because we haven't been arguing lately? You think we're in a rut? It's so comforting to know that you only feel that our relationship's exciting if we're fighting."

"Burke, that's not what I-"

"Fine, I'll pick an argument with you later." He raised his arms to keep them sterile, and backed into the O.R without another word.

Cristina tied her mask on, rolling her eyes. Talk about being overly sensitive.

She was enthralled three hours later as they worked on the patient's lungs. "God, look at this," Alex said, motioning to the lining of the lungs. "What are her odds of survival?"

"Slim to none the moment you're stupid enough to stick a cigarette in your mouth, and refuse to quit for thirty years."

"Thank you for your running commentary, Dr. Yang. Please focus on the task at hand."

Cristina shot her eyes up to meet Burke's, and he met them coolly. "Yes, Dr. Burke," she replied through clenched teeth.

A little while later, Cristina swiftly moved her finger to clog a bleeder, when she let out a gasp.

"What was that?" Burke asked immediately.

"I thought I saw something…" the scrub nurse began.

Alex squinted. "Something just fell into the body cavity."

Cristina cleared her throat. "I think it was my watch."

"_What?_" Burke asked incredulously. "Dr. Karev, kindly remove Dr. Yang's watch from the patient. Immediately." Barely suppressing a smirk, Alex fished out Cristina's watch, and placed it in a surgical tray.

"I hope you weren't attached to that, Yang."

"Dr. Yang," Burke interrupted Alex as he began to close. "Remind me why it's important to remove all loose objects from ourselves before surgery?"

"Because it could potentially endanger the patient."

"Exactly, Dr. Yang. And today your carelessness endangered our patient."

Was _this _the argument he was picking? "But I always wear my watch in here. _You_ wear a watch in here."

"Yes, and before every surgery I ensure it's secure. Do you think you can handle doing the same in the future?"

"Yes.Sir," she added with disdain. He shot her a look, but let it slide.

Cristina washed up quickly, and strode away without looking at Burke. "Trouble in paradise?" Alex chided as he followed her back to the locker room. It was past eight that night.

"Want do you want, Evil Spawn?" Cristina asked moodily as she grabbed her bag out of her locker, and went to the bathroom to change.

"Just let me see you naked, once, and I'll leave you alone."

Cristina rolled her eyes as she quickly changed from her scrubs into her jeans, and her favourite purple turtleneck.

She slammed her locker, and left without another word to Alex. Pulling on her coat, she strode across the road to the Emerald City Bar. She found Meredith, Izzie and George perched on stools at the bar. She moodily sat next to Izzie, and they glanced up at her.

"Well, aren't you a regular ray of sunshine?" Meredith observed.

"Joe, I need vodka!" she yelled.

"I thought you just got out of surgery," Izzie commented.

"I did, with Alex, and _Burke_. I'll say it again, way to go with dumping Alex, he's an ass. Maybe I should follow suit."

George smirked. "What happened to 'things are going smoothly?'"

"He didn't exactly react well when I tried to talk to him about it. And then he yelled at me in surgery, in front of everyone."

"Why?" Izzie pressed.

She took a gulp of vodka. "My watch fell into the body cavity."

Izzie and George did an awful job of not smirking. "And so he yelled at you? For that?" Meredith asked.

"Yes! How unprofessional can you get?"

"You lost your watch. Bummer," was Meredith's reply, as she downed a tequila shot.

"What happened to being sober because you're celibate?" George asked.

"I've made such good progress with my knitting, I'm rewarding myself by drinking. But only a little," she justified.

Izzie glanced over to where Alex was playing darts with a nurse, and obviously flirting. "Oh, thank God I dumped that. So now he can go back to his syphilis spreading ways-"

"and you can screw a patient?" Cristina finished darkly.

"I'm not screwing Denny. Man, you're really pissed at Burke, aren't you?"

"Of course she is. She has a right to be. If any of our watches fell in a body cavity, he wouldn't have such an overreaction. Solidarity, sister," Meredith slurred. She was doing a terrible job of _not _looking at Derek and Addison in the corner booth.

"OK, there's too much estrogen here. I'm outta here." George stood up.

"Going to see Callie?" asked Izzie, still sore that her best friend wasn't sharing as much as she wanted about his new girlfriend.

"Maybe. See you later."

Izzie finished her wine, then announced she was going home. "You mean going to play dirty scrabble with Denny?"

Izzie just grinned at them, and left.

"Why is everyone so damn happy?" Meredith grumbled.

"I know why I'm not, but what's wrong with you? You and McDreamy are friends. You have your knitting, and your celibacy."

"Who are you kidding? I suck at knitting. I suck at being single."

"I love the dramas at Seattle Grace," Joe commented, leaning on the bar. "Everyone comes here to drown their sorrows. It's making me a very rich man."

Cristina saw Burke enter with Dr. Walker, another cardiothoracic surgeon from the hospital, Burke's 2ic of sorts. She groaned. "I need more vodka, Joe. Meredith, stay strong. Being in a relationship is overrated."

"Mmm. Want a cocktail?"

"God, you are depressed. What the hell. Joe, make that 2 pina colladas!"

Cristina's head was spinning after that. She was tipsy, but not drunk. She convinced Meredith to stop drinking then; it was hard enough to get through days at the hospital, without a hangover inhibiting them.

Glaring at Burke, who was laughing over a drink with Walker in the corner, she stood up, making a concerted effort not to stumble. "Let's go get a cab, Mere."

"Okay." She picked up her bag, her knitting needles, and followed Cristina outside.

"Promise me you won't knit tonight; it'd be a painful experience."

"Sure. Whatever. Where's the cab?"

"There." Cristina stuck her arm out.

"Cristina." Came the voice she least wanted to hear. Or maybe the most and the least. She wasn't sure. Cursing alcohol, she turned around. He was standing there by himself, hands buried in his coat pockets, exhaling mists of air. "What?"

"Are you ready to go?"

She turned back to where Meredith was opening the cab door. "It's ok, I'm taking a cab with Meredith."

Meredith moved to push her away, but only hit air somewhere over Cristina's shoulder. "It's ok." She maneuvered herself inside the cab. "I'll be fine. Go, take your free ride. And remind me tomorrow why being in a relationship is overrated."

Meredith pulled the door closed, and Cristina reluctantly followed Burke to his car. He opened the door for her, but didn't touch her.

"Being in a relationship is overrated?" he asked, breaking the silence on the drive home.

"Sometimes."

"When?"

"When it's the attending, not the intern in the relationship that acts completely unprofessionally in front of our colleagues," she snapped.

She saw him tighten his grip on the wheel. "I was not unprofessional. Your watch fell into the body cavity. It could have nicked an organ. We were lucky, but that doesn't erase the fact that I as your teacher needed to reprimand you for your carelessness."

"Carelessness? Please. It could have happened to anyone. You know I'm not careless."

"As your boyfriend, yes. Not as your attending!"

"Maybe it was your right, as my teacher, to reprimand me. But it was not your right to mix your personal and professional issues with me. You didn't compartmentalize them today, Burke. You wouldn't have had such a strong reaction if you hadn't."

"You do _not _get to judge my professional judgment," Burke replied icily.

"Oh great, and now it's the attending, not the boyfriend, coming home with us!"

Cristina rubbed her forehead tiredly, the alcohol still clouding her vision. Burke didn't answer, and they walked into their apartment in stony silence. Whilst he was in the bathroom, Cristina had some aspirin in the kitchen.

She changed into her pyjamas in the bedroom, and when Burke emerged from the bathroom, she went in wordlessly. She brushed her teeth and washed her face with excess force.

Coming out of the bathroom, she climbed into bed, and lay with her back to Burke. He switched off his lamp a while later. And he slept on his side of the bed that night.

A/N Yes, I know, it sucks when they fight. Just trust me, ok?

And again, reviewers, you rock. Seriously. I love seeing what you guys have to write.


	7. I've Never Bought You Flowers

**Chapter Seven: I've Never Bought You Flowers**

"We didn't drink _that _much last night. You look like hell," Meredith commented between rooms on rounds the next morning.

"I didn't sleep very well." The absence of Burke pressed against her back was felt by every inch of her body last night, and they both tossed and turned restlessly all night.

"So basically, you and Burke had a fight, and that's much worse than any semblance of a hangover?" Meredith observed accurately.

"You two, social hour is over!" Bailey exclaimed. "You've been blabbing all morning. Karev, you're with me today. Stevens, you're in on the liver transplant with Dr. Burke."

"Yes!" Izzie exclaimed.

"Oh, Dr. Bailey, I want in on the transplant!"

"I'm sure you do, O'Malley. And though you may be Dr. Burke's 'guy', its time someone else had a go with him."

Cristina smirked. Bailey glared at her. "O'Malley, you're on neuro with Dr. Shepherd. Go!" The three of them hurried away.

She glared at her two remaining interns. "Since you two seem too distracted to worry about surgery today, you're in the pit."

"What just happened there?" Meredith asked as they walked to the elevator.

"We just got demoted," Cristina replied moodily. "What the hell happened to us, Mere? We're the best. Or we were, when we started. Now getting drunk and worrying about whom we're screwing - or not, in some cases - clouds everything."

"We slept with our bosses. We're being punished," Meredith announced as they stepped onto the elevator.

"Do you really think that's the cause of all this? Would we still be top of our game if we hadn't done that?"

Meredith sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. But I'm sure if it hadn't been that, we'd find something else to complain about. Like if we had decent men outside the hospital, we'd bitch that they didn't understand what we do all day."

"You think so?"

"Oh, I've had a lot of time to think recently. All I've been doing is knitting! I've come to a conclusion, of sorts."

"Which is?" They stepped off the elevator.

"Life is a bitch as an intern, regardless. We may have made it worse for ourselves, you and I, but everyone's had it rough. Izzie lost her boyfriend Hank, she lost Alex, and she's always getting in trouble for getting too close to her patients. Look at what's happening with Denny. This _can't _end well. Alex is talented, but always suffers from a lack of confidence. He spreads syphilis, fails his boards and chickens out on elevator surgery. He's constantly lapsing between being a decent human and an ass, and that cost him Izzie. And George, well, I think I messed him up by not returning his feelings. He had to work his ass off for ages, everyone doubted him. And though he has his shining moments, he also has the most spectacular lows."

"But what's your conclusion?" Cristina asked impatiently, as she heard sirens in the distance.

"That this was always going to be hard, regardless. And though it might seem hardest for us, what, with crazy relatives, getting pregnant to and dumped by attendings, I've decided I win our pity contest this time round."

"You think?" Cristina asked incredulously. "You're free of Shepherd. You don't have to deal with the invasion into your personal life at work, and his stupid inability to separate his personal life from his professional life. He doesn't withhold surgeries, or yell at you in the middle of them."

Meredith gazed into the distance. "No, he doesn't. He's also not there to go home to. Not there to listen to, to laugh with, to get pissed off at, and have amazing make-up sex. You and Burke may have your ups and downs, Cristina, but you've got a partner in him. And a good one at that. I managed to get involved with the more dysfunctional of the two."

The expression on Meredith's face silenced Cristina. She felt deeply about this. And, distracted and screwed up though they might be, together, they both saved lives in the pit that day. At least they had their talent and dedication to stand on.

Cristina yawned widely as she made her way up to the locker room that night. It had been a grueling day. Almost everyone else had cleared out, and she tiredly opened her locker. Even amongst the clutter, she spotted what hadn't been their before. Perhaps her locker was chaotic, but it was organized chaos. A smallish, flat square box sat at the bottom. With a post-it attached. Curiously, she peeled the post-it off:

_C – _

_Thought you might need this._

_B._

She reached for the box, and fumbled to find the opening. Raising the lid, she gaped at what she saw. She sat down on the bench behind her as she gently pulled the watch out of the box. It had a small, tasteful square face, and attached to a black leather wrist band. The face was plated with ­_– holy cow, is that white gold? – _and it didn't have one of those annoying second hands that made a loud ticking noise. It was exactly Cristina's style, and she wondered when the hell he had time to get it in the last 24 hours.

"I do my best, you know." Cristina looked up, to see Burke standing before her, out of his scrubs. He buried his hands in the pockets of his beige trousers, and leant against the lockers, facing her. "To keep our personal and professional lives separate. Though perhaps I could improve on that."

"You do a pretty good job," Cristina replied softly, turning the watch over in her fingers. She met his eyes. "I'm sorry my watch almost turned me into a 007."

Burke's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Things happen. What do you think of this one? I had to do something on my lunch break, and the guy at the shop said the wrist band was very secure."

Cristina chuckled, as Burke leant down to secure the watch around her left wrist. "It fits."

"Yeah. Thank you." She stood up, and pressed her lips against his, gentle and lingering.

He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "You're more than welcome. Now, do you think we can make it home without a pit stop at Joe's tonight?"

"I think I could manage that."

They rode home in comfortable silence that night, both finding it easier to breathe. He led her straight to the bedroom. It was different between them as they made love; more gentle, and tender. There were few moments when Cristina actually felt in awe of Burke. But as they came together that night, she found herself in one of those moments.

A/N There was quite a reaction to unhappy Bang. Sorry if it causes you angst, guys. But I guess I want this to be as well-rounded a story as possible, and being true to their characters. That means there will inevitably be conflict. But if it makes you feel better, I am the eternal Bang optimist, so it will end well!

And to the reviewer who asked if I meant to say 'Yang's Anatomy', no, I mean Bang's Anatomy. Bang Burke & Yang.


	8. Please Give Me Something

A/N I know it's been a little while since I update, and I'm sorry! I was on holidays for a week. But I haven't forgotten you. I still love you all, and here's your next chapter!!

**Chapter 8: Please Give Me Something**

Burke's shirt was heavily stained with sweat, as usual, when he returned from his morning run. Cristina was guzzling coffee, her shoulders hunched over the bench. Burke placed his hands on his hips as he tried to steady his breathing, watching her.

"It's been a while since I've seen the morning dancing I've come to love," he commented with a smile, noticing her discarded i-pod on the coffee table.

"It's been a while since I've had any excess energy in the morning," she replied shortly, grabbing an apple and making to rush out the door. He held his arm out to stop her, and she wrinkled her nose. "You need a shower."

"And you need to tell me what's been on your mind lately."

She sighed, relenting slightly, and meeting his concerned gaze. "I just feel like I've been getting slack, I need to pick up the pace if I want to stay ahead. What the chief told me about getting back to basics has been riling me. He's right, you know. How will I ever get muscle memory like his? And I know you like your new hangout times with George, having him and that Callie chick over for rounds of charades or whatever, but I need that time to study."

"Ok," he replied simply.

"Ok?"

"Yes. You just need to tell me these things. Remember?"

She nodded, feeling sheepish. "Yeah. I should go."

He took her by the shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. She whimpered as his tongue delved into the furthest corners of her mouth, and he tightened his grip on her.

"What was that for?" she asked, finally breaking away.

"A better start to the day. I'll see you at the hospital."

Relieved to see her finally smile, Burke made his way to the shower.

Feeling grateful towards him after he took an effort to calm her that morning, Cristina sought Burke out with a coffee soon after he arrived. She wasn't expecting to be one upped by George, who delivered him a cappuccino. Seriously. She knew she'd been a little self-involved lately, but what was with this newfound friendship? He knew George was 'Burke's guy' after the elevator surgery, but that was ages ago. And they were rambling on about some foot violinist, and he offered George the case over her!

She was wishing she'd never tried to be considerate with bringing him coffee. When George said he was with Shepherd that day, Burke gave the case to Cristina as an afterthought.

Rolling her eyes, she stormed off to find his chart. And the day just kept getting weirder, as she overheard something disturbing flipping through Eugene Foote's chart. Meredith, whose sanity she already knew was hanging on by a thread, especially with this newfound obsession with knitting, was considering dating a vet. Of all people. "He's not even a real doctor!" Cristina fumed. If she wanted to get over McDreamy, she couldn't move on with a vet. She downgraded from a neurosurgeon to a guy who played with animals all day.

Seriously.

People were nutty all day. Burke was suffering from multiple man obsessions – first George, then this Eugene Foote guy, who was apparently Burke's idol. Why couldn't she just get a normal boyfriend with a normal idol? Not some headcase who wanted his pacemaker removed. A lifesaving device, removed. Seriously!

Alex ended the day by potentially landing the hospital a lawsuit against Addison, Meredith concluded she _would _date the vet, and Izzie continued her obsession with Denny, who got an LVAD, by the way. And Bailey was on the warpath about Izzie's idiocy in falling for a patient.

And what was _with _George and the Ortho chick?

She tried to control the thunder clouds swirling behind her head, though, when she realized just how much her patient's music meant to Burke. He was seriously distressed about removing this guy's pacemaker. She tried to be as supportive as she could. Plus, she was excited to scrub in on this procedure.

But since Eugene Foote didn't survive the surgery, Cristina hurriedly completed her post-op notes. She knew Burke would be in the hospital, somewhere, torturing himself. This death would hit him hard, as in his mind, his hands had failed.

She found him stretched out on a bed in an on-call room, arms folded behind his head, staring absently into nothingness. He began talking about an interview of Foote's that had inspired him, as Cristina lay her head on his chest, trying to comfort him. She liked the story he told her. About how Eugene Foote hadn't been the most naturally gifted, but he made up for that in discipline, and Burke likened that to his college experience. She could picture Burke at med school, becoming the best, disciplining himself to practice with sheer willpower. It was this same willpower that meant he pushed himself to the top of his field. And he also felt the full force of his failure, now almost more than ever.

"I'm practicing too, you know," she murmured after a long silence. "This relationship thing doesn't come naturally to me. But I'm trying to get better at it."

Finally, he transferred his gaze to her, and she rested her chin on his chest, looking at him.

"Tell me something good. Anything."

She thought for a moment. "I love you?"

For maybe the first time, disbelief was in his eyes. "Even after today?"

This was not the confident man she knew so well. He defined so much of himself, perhaps too much, on excelling. He was good at teaching the interns that it was a learning experience to trip and fall, but he failed to apply that lesson to himself in this instance.

"It has been one of my greatest honours this year to train under you. God, remember that night I harassed you, the night before my internship started? That was my ultimate goal, as a surgeon, to learn from the best. Why do you think it was so embarrassing when Liz Fallon slammed me in front of you? I finally got to work on a case with you, and an ex-scrub nurse was bringing me down, of all people. But I made my biggest decision this year. It was sealed the moment I locked that door. Falling in love with you has been even better than learning from Preston Burke, top cardiothoracic surgeon."

She is trying to pull him out from his place of pain, with maybe the hardest admission she's ever made. Who would have ever thought that something could be more important to Cristina Yang than surgery?

Burke wordlessly took his left arm out from behind his head, and gently rested his hand on her back. And they stayed that way, until some of his aching began to subside.


	9. You Only Hold Me When I Sleep

A/N For the next few chapters, the story will move quite closely along the lines of what happens with the show, around the end of S2 and the beginning of S3. Since I wrote most of this before a lot of what unfolded in S3, it'll be a little AU at the end, but still Bang all the same . Hope you guys are still enjoying it!!

**Chapter Nine: You Only Hold Me When I Sleep**

"Derek's being a little weird," Meredith confided to her a few weeks later. "Ever since that night Doc got sick, and he saw me at Finn's."

Cristina sighed, slightly exasperated at Meredith's naïveté. "Get a clue. He's jealous."

"Why? I'm his friend. I've had a few dates, good ones at that. He should be happy for me."

"He's your ex-lover whose friends with you so he can have some sort of connection with you, because he's wishing he chose you over his wife, and you only agreed to it because you're still hung up on him."

"You are so wrong," Meredith concluded.

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Right."

"Where are you going?" Meredith asked as Cristina went to leave the locker room.

"I'll be back before Bailey gets here." She went to do her usual search of the on-call rooms. Burke had a surgery that got complicated the previous night, and had gone well past midnight. She guessed he'd chosen just to sleep at the hospital before his shift that day, since she was alone when she woke up that morning. Disdainfully considering that perhaps George had found him first, she still bought a coffee, and came across him on the bottom bunk of the third room she searched.

He was stretched on his side, assuming his usual sleeping position, just minus Cristina. His scrub shirt and shoes lay discarded on the floor beside him. His shirt wasn't even folded. He _must _have been tired. She sat down on the bed, and gently nudged his shoulder. "Burke."

"Mmm?"

"Coffee."

He reluctantly opened his eyes, and gingerly sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the floor, and gratefully taking a sip of coffee. Cristina tried not to get distracted by his bare upper torso, and shifted slightly.

Burke smiled knowingly. "Mind elsewhere?"

"Oh, and yours isn't? It's been almost a week."

He sighed, putting an arm around, and pulling her up against him. "I know. I'll make it up to you tonight."

Planting a kiss on her forehead, he stood up. "I need to have a shower."

She handed him a bag. "I brought you underwear and socks. Don't you dare say anything."

He bit back a crack about her domesticity, and just grinned. "Never. I'll see you later."

He did indeed make it up to her that night. Though she returned home late, she was on a high from a surgery she'd scrubbed in on. And Burke was waiting.

"One of my favorite saxophonists is in town next weekend, playing at a club. Will you come and see him with me?" Burke asked afterwards when they lay in bed, figuring this was the time she was most likely to acquiesce. She still groaned. "Jazz?"

"I've surrendered to the fact that you'll never like classical music. But you should give jazz a chance, you may even like it." Seeing her face, he pressed, "hey, I let you play Bon Jovi _during _sex tonight. Hearing that man yell 'lay your hands on me' over and over isn't exactly the ideal for me, but I did it for you."

"Oh, it threatened you, did it?" she teased.

"It's like having another man in the room," he growled, flipping her on her back, and silencing her with his mouth.

One more round did the trick. They were going to listen to the saxophonist next weekend.

The next night, Cristina had the opportunity to scrub in on a four-hour esophageal hernia. She jumped at the opportunity, though she was exhausted afterwards, especially since Burke had kept her occupied most of the night before. She collapsed in one of the on-call rooms soon after.

It didn't feel like very much longer, but there was daylight peeking through the slants in the blinds when Burke came into see her, saying he missed her last night. She sleepily told him where she'd been, and then he moved on top of her, his mouth eagerly seeking hers. She gave herself to the familiar feeling of him on top of her, kissing her, inside of her. She closed her eyes to heighten the experience, and it was good. It was always good with Burke. She found herself wondering though how it was possible to be so aroused and exhausted at the same time.

After she'd climaxed – twice, the man was a god – her eyes were still closed, and the comforting feeling of having him pressed so close lulled her back to sleep almost immediately.

Cristina should have been exhausted after the previous night, but after being with Burke in the on call room – both the sex, and further sleep afterwards, she was wide-awake. Even happy. And it was disturbing her fellow interns.

The E.R erupted that morning, with a bunch of hillbillies from a car-accident taking over most of the place. She sought out Burke as soon as she could, half-jokingly asking for a new case, but willing to take anything he'd give her. The last thing she'd expected was to be met with his stony expression. He informed her she'd fallen asleep this morning. She gave him a small smile, and informed him it was only after she'd finished…twice.

"I wasn't finished," he glared, and she tried to look sheepish. But he was stubborn. _So _stubborn. Angry she'd stayed when she wasn't on call last night.

She didn't feel like she should defend herself – she was an intern, she was there to learn.

"I'm a surgeon first, just like you," she tried to reason.

"No, not like me. I am a _person _first!" he exclaimed, and then strode away down the corridor.

_Woops_, she thought. This one may be a little tricky to get out of.

Perhaps it would be more than just a little tricky, she reflected later that day. Meredith deadpanned that he hadn't forgiven her, and he was cold towards her all day. They also had a grueling surgery, with the youngest hillbilly, Melanie. She had grievous internal injuries, and died on the table. Alex performed a C-section, and at least saved the baby.

Cristina did Melanie's post-op notes, then took a cab home. She was so exhausted, she didn't feel safe driving. And her head was filled to the overflowing. The best surgeons had stood around that operating table, using their utmost skill, and still they couldn't save her. It was jarring for surgeons when they realized their limits.

Burke already had dinner on the table when she walked into the apartment, and was reading as he ate. She tentatively sat down at her plate, unsure of what to say. "You must be tired," Burke observed.

She picked up her fork and speared a bean. "Yeah."

"I'm tired too." With that, his eyes were fixed on his book. Cristina ate most of her meal in thoughtful silence.

"Do you ever doubt yourself? After days like this?"

"There was nothing we could have done. You saw the extent of the damage." He continued reading.

"But, you wonder sometimes, right? I mean, I was with her in the E.R, thinking how painful it was to listen to her. I left her, to find you. I left her with Alex. I didn't know."

Burke lowered his book, and met her eyes. "You are a lot of things, Cristina. A _lot _of things." He said that word perhaps too disdainfully. "But an incompetent surgeon is not one of them."

They were silent the rest of the night; he cleaned up, and she did a little study.

Exhausted, they both collapsed into bed. In this most intimate place of theirs, closeness was automatic – the hurts of the day were forgotten. He moved to hold her, and they fell asleep instantaneously.

But daylight ends the spell of darkness, and in the morning, Cristina woke up alone. She wearily glanced over at Burke's side of the bed. A note on the pillow simply said 'Left for early surgery.'

Cristina groaned and pulled a pillow to cover her face. This would be tricky indeed.


	10. Interlude: Burke

A/N I couldn't go for a while fic without getting inside Burke's head at some point, and this seemed like the right time! Thanks for everyone that's reviewed, especially those that have left regular comments – I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

**Interlude: Burke**

_His reflections in the helicopter as he flies to, and from Mercy West. _

Lucky he was the attending in this setting. Once Alex took the hint that Burke was most certainly _not _in a talking mood, the silence provided Burke with a cover to partake in one of his most frequent pastimes.

Reflecting on Cristina.

He didn't get nearly enough time to do this, but an hour long helicopter ride seemed to provide ample opportunity. She seemed to infuriate him at every turn.

Falling asleep. _During _sex. Of all places.

He knew she was exhausted, when he climbed into bed with her that morning. But that had never been a problem before. He fully planned on joining her for a sleep afterwards.

Afterwards, being the operative word.

Yes, she was infuriating from the beginning. From the moment she locked the door. She'd been happy to keep meeting him in the on-call room, but avoided talking about what their newfound attraction meant. They were perhaps the last two people in the hospital people would suspect – both because they were exact opposites, and obsessively focused on their job; why would they risk it for meaningless sex?

It was never just meaningless sex. That's why he almost choked on his words when he ended it with her. It was for the best, he reasoned. He was doing irrational things, like granting her surgery when she asked for it. It was only once, but he could not slip again.

Sometimes, even Preston Burke was wrong.

Yes, she was infuriating. She'd neglected to tell him she was pregnant, with his child. She'd been utterly disrespectful when they were apart. Even when she decided they were in a relationship, Burke thought performing heart surgery with rusty instruments would be easier. She was awkward on their first date, she was the most untidy person he'd ever met. She kept her apartment when she'd told him she'd moved him, refusing to trust him completely. He asked her to leave the floor the bomb was on, and she walked straight into the next O.R with Shepherd.

She worked more hours than any other intern, she was uncomfortable being physical in public. And she fell asleep during sex.

Infuriating. At _every _turn. And, in some senses, so wrong for a man like Preston Burke.

His women had always been open, warm, kind. Intelligent and driven, yes. He couldn't respect them otherwise. But they'd been eager, sometimes overly so, to let him in.

And they'd counted themselves lucky to have him, to call him theirs.

Cristina wasn't even comfortable calling him by his first name. When she first heard his full name, she'd actually laughed, stressing every syllable.

Preston. Xavier. Burke.

He never thought he'd love someone that was someone else's dream. Perhaps it was someone else's dream to fall in love with an incredibly guarded person, someone that fought the urge to fall in love, tooth and nail. But it wasn't his.

He'd never counted anyone as an equal before Cristina. He had never been challenged so much before her. And he'd never known what it meant to love in a way that consumes your every breath before Cristina.

He knew he'd eventually forgive her. He always did.

So why was he so determined to punish her for this? To pass her over so quickly in front of Alex, and pierce her with his gaze as they flew away?

Maybe just to show that he wasn't invincible. That he could take a lot – _would _take a lot – from her, but he couldn't take everything. She'd didn't anticipate his need in the on-call room. She didn't even realize it. She'd just taken, then fallen asleep.

She was good at that. Take, take, take. Take his rational thought, his control, his surgeries, his key, his heart.

He was still rolling his eyes when he got off the chopper with Alex. She moved him. All over the damn place.

Straightening his back, Burke strode into Mercy West hospital, determined to get back in his element. Where he was in control, in his known arena, without Cristina Yang to throw him off guard.

_What the hell is Stevens doing? _The question kept bouncing off the walls of Burke's skull, as he hurriedly climbed into the chopper to fly back to Seattle Grace. How far would Izzie go to secure that heart for Denny?

_Too far_ Burke realized with dismay. Preston. She'd called him Preston. She was desperate.

It seemed love messed with everyone's heads.

Even amidst his animosity over what he'd discover back at Seattle Grace, Burke's thoughts still wandered to Cristina. He found himself back at a place that often haunted him.

He wondered just how much he'd taken from her in the on-call room that day, back when he was temporarily chief, back when he ended it, ended them. Her inability to trust him completely had to stem at least partially from that day. She'd _finally _sought him out, was finally letting her guard down. Maybe she'd even come to tell her about the pregnancy. And he abandoned her. Burke swallowed painfully at this memory. He hadn't known, of course, he couldn't have known. But Preston Burke was raised as a gentleman. Not to get an intern pregnant, and then leave her high and dry. That still plagued him.

He saw the haunted look in her eyes when he asked her to leave the O.R with the bomb. It mirrored his own emotions when he'd seen Cristina collapse in his O.R that day, when she'd lost the baby. He was pushing her, annoyed she didn't seem to be focusing. He also wanted to reinforce their professional relationship. And then she fell.

Preston Burke always finished his surgeries steadily. Except that day. He let someone else close, with the pretense of giving them the experience, but in reality his hands were trembling.

And he couldn't go to her. Not the way he wanted. For days, actually. Stopped by Richard, by the other interns, by her mother. Then, he threw caution to the wind. Who cared who saw them? She was lying, broken in a hospital bed. And all he wanted to do was put her back together.

Of course, she was far from helpless. She'd only let him do that to a certain extent. But she was his partner now, well and truly.

He'd left her standing, on that helipad, punishing her as though she was a child. It was time to go back to her, and, as usual, put things right.

He grinned to himself when he thought of the way their reconciliations always ended. She'd just have to make damn sure she stayed awake this time.

A/N Please continue to r&r!


	11. Make Me Scared

**Chapter Eleven: Make Me Scared**

_I am a person first._

Cristina always hated those movies and TV shows when a line was repeated over and over in a characters head, very obviously for emphasis. It pissed her off.

So she hated the fact that this one line of Burke's was stuck inside of her brain all day. What the hell was he thinking to make him say something like that? What must he think of her?

He had no right to gaze at her for so long like that. When they were at Joe's the night before, he was imagining her face on that dart board, she knew it. So why did he feel the need to keep looking at her? Just looking, nothing else.

And in a rare moment when he was completely unprofessional; he passed her over for Alex to go and collect a heart for Mercy West, he was intent on holding her gaze until the helicopter was out of sight. She wished he'd decided if he was angry at her, or not.

But _enough _with the looking, already.

She was pissed. As hell. They were adept at keeping their professional and personal lives separate. Well, _most _of the time. There'd been a couple of slips. When they first started sleeping together, at her request he told her to get a patient's history, to enable her to scrub in on Annie's surgery, the woman with the enormous tumour. And he'd heeded her complaints against the painful cheerleader who temporarily replaced Bailey as their resident. That plagued him afterwards, second guessing a colleague's judgment.

But what pissed her off when he did the opposite of what most people expected. When an intern was sleeping with an attending, there was the natural cynical assumption attached that sexual favours translated into surgical favours.

Not for Preston Burke. When he was mad at his girlfriend, he _withheld _surgeries. He'd done it twice now. Once, when she wanted in on the surgery of the guy who ended up having a bazooka in his chest, he'd said no (okay, so perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing). Instead, he assigned her to find out from the wife what happened – that was her _thing_, he said disdainfully. He was just pissed that she'd left without saying anything before he woke up that morning. Only so she could get that headcase, otherwise known as her best friend, out of bed.

Then there was now. Cristina Yang could forget transplant surgery if she fell asleep during sex. She slammed a patient's chart down on the nurses station.

And of all the patients she could be assigned to on a day of multiple gunshot wounds? She got the dysfunctional couple. Neil had ducked behind his fiancée – or ex-fiancee, it was unresolved – to avoid getting shot. Cristina told her firmly to not take him back. She told Cristina she was bitter.

Of course she was bitter! What was happening to her lately? This was her surgical residency. She'd been working towards this most of her life. And instead of focusing on securing the best surgeries, getting as far ahead as she could, she was embroiled in the issues of her fellow interns. And _constantly _wondering what was going on in her boyfriend's head, and how to make her relationship work.

And she cared. About her boyfriend, her friends, and her patients on a personal level. When the _hell _did that start happening? And how could she get it to stop?

It was about control again. Everything seemed to boil down to that. How could she get it back?

She thought the chance might come when she heard gunshot wounds outside the hospital. Had Petey come back? Oh god, what a day. Still, she realized, this could mean emergency surgeries…

Her natural instinct kicked in. Swiftly pulling on a surgery gown, she dashed down into the pit. She spotted the chief and dashed over, ready to start groveling. He told her she could run trauma two.

_Seriously?!?_

Oh, they were going to be so jealous. Especially Alex and Meredith. She was going to run the hell out of trauma two, it wouldn't know what hit it.

She'd got the shooter – he'd turned the gun on himself. Cristina's chest swelled as she ordered them to begin compressions.

"_You're _running this?" she was asked incredulously.

She grinned, ecstatic to finally have her moment. "You bet I am." This would be the biggest high she'd _ever _get. She was running on pure adrenaline. And pure skill, of course. She was Cristina Yang, after all.

Through the window, Cristina saw Shepherd stride purposefully into trauma one. She glanced up, curious about the condition of that patient, and wondering if she was getting the best action.

And she saw Burke lying on the bed.

She immediately tasted bile in her mouth. She blinked to clear her vision, as everything seemed to blur. She numbly wondered into the room. Was he dead? No, he wasn't head. His heart monitor showed activity.

"You're shot," she heard herself state evenly.

"Cristina?" he called out, struggling to catch her in his vision. The sound of his voice was terrifying. He was weak, frightened. The Burke she knew was never weak or frightened.

"Are you shot?" she asks incredulously, more loudly. Bailey tried to usher her out of the room, and adrenaline kicked back in. She strode back into trauma one – _her _domain, where she had the control. She aggressively began compressions. "You do _not _get off that easily," she told Petey though gritted teeth. Her internal monologue was much more rapid. '_You do NOT get to shoot the best damn cardiothoracic surgeon in the country – screw that, in the world - and die! You don't get to shoot my boyfriend – you hear that, MY boyfriend! I'm the best goddamn intern in Seattle, and I love him. So you don't get out of that, you BASTARD!'_

"I want to tell his family I did everything I could to save the rat bastard!" she exclaimed to her doubting colleagues.

Cristina did everything she could, and more. Her ability to run such an operation in that atmosphere was a testament both to her skills, and her utter terror. This terror took hold of her core after Petey was moved upstairs, and she went straight back to trauma 1. She'd processed her initial dread, and went back.

The edges of her vision were still blurry. "My patient's been moved upstairs!" she exclaimed by way of an opener. It was important the chief know she'd done her job. He nodded sympathetically, but Bailey tried to get her out of the room. Her adrenaline kicked up a notch, to desperation. She had to see him – and if Cristina was stubborn and strong willed in a normal situation, she was outright obstinate in that moment. The weakness in Burke's voice when he asked for a moment terrified her again.

She blinked to clear her vision as she stepped up to his bedside. She was a surgeon; she was used to blood. But this was Burke's lifeblood, staining the sheets. It had drained out of him, leaving him a shell of his former self. She could barely recognize the man lying on that gurney.

It was his eyes that haunted her the most. She knew them intimately, better than any other part of him. They threw her curious stares and smoldering glances. They were liquid chocolate when they made love, and dark pools of anger when they fought. When he was in surgery, his entire face was obscured. But not his eyes; she could read his entire expression in his eyes.

But now they were hollow, weak, struggling to focus on her.

She took his hand anyway.

She knew she was ranting, telling him she wasn't mad about him taking Alex, or withholding surgeries…well, not anymore. Oh, she was ranting. When Cristina felt trapped, or uncertain, she did one of two things: she ran, or she ranted. Like when he'd stood there at the door of her apartment, and she'd been exposed. She ranted.

Now, she couldn't run. So she ranted, emphasizing she was there for him. She finally quieted down when she saw him struggling to get something out. She stood as still as she could, somehow fearing what he was about to say. It took a while, but he managed to gasp out "I need…..you to check….on Denny Duquette."

Of all the things to say? But she nodded. "Ok. But that was my best supportive girlfriend act, and you kind of ruined it with medicine."

A shadow of the Burke she recognized stirred within his eyes. Even if he couldn't because of the pain, she knew he wanted to smirk at her for this.


	12. A Second Too Late

A/N Sorry for the delay guys! I'll update the next chapter in the next couple of days because I was so slack before Christmas  Thanks for the feedback everyone whose still giving it, I really appreciate it.

**Chapter Twelve: A Second Too Late**

Cristina Yang had a clear memory. An _impeccable _memory. That's how she topped her class at Stanford. That's how she always knew the answers to the questions asked in rounds, and during surgeries. It didn't just apply to surgery: she remembered details. Birthdays, peoples quirks, every single damn look Burke had every given her. She remembered.

But later, when she looked back over these few days at the hospital, she couldn't distinguish a clear sequence of events. She ran on adrenaline for so many hours, and that until the moment she collapsed against the door in the on-call room, yells of desperation, the beeping of machines and faces just blurred into each other.

When she thought hard, there were two distinctions in the blur. The first was Izzie, as she pumped Denny's heart, begging her to understand that she _did _love Denny. That was why she had to cut the LVAD. Cristina just met her gaze blankly. Didn't anyone understand that she loved Burke? That was why she was in there: he'd asked her to go. That simple request was even more powerful than the demands of friendship that held her in the room at that moment.

The other clear memory was Bailey telling her Burke was asking her. That released her momentarily from the Izzie Stevens Saga, and she went to his side immediately.

She didn't wait for the elevator. She took the stairs. Two or three at a time, quite a feat for someone as vertically challenged as her. The ghosts of the stairwell surrounded her as she went – him finding her there after Liz Fallon died, him grabbing her and kissing her with a suppressed passion, even as he ordered her to figure out what she wanted.

When she saw him lying there, exposed, the adrenaline began to slow. It came to a dead standstill when he asked her what she thought he should do. She understood in a horrifying second that this was his entire career, the essence of his identity being threatened.

_This _is what it meant to be needed. When it was difficult to breathe in and out, just to see him lying there. He asked her to do.

He needed her. She needed to breathe.

This was the time to classic Cristina Yang survival instincts kicked in. Age old instincts, that date back to before we as humans emerged from caves. If something is too difficult, to challenging, something deep inside us screams out '_it's too hard! Get out! Save yourself!'_

She got out, and went straight to the darkened on call room. This time, the light was off, and she didn't lock the door. She was just grasping wildly at the door, trying to find something to hold onto.

She needed anesthesia in this, and she had nothing. She thought she'd understood what it meant to lose control; she was wrong.

_This _was loss. This was out of control. She tried to gain some back, but her survival instincts kicked in again when she saw Burke on the table in the O.R, writing and thrashing with pain. How do you watch the man who has turned you inside out, looked over every inch of your imperfections, and chose to stay anyway, writhe with pain?

She hid. She wasn't strong enough for this.

She needed anesthesia. She needed to hang onto _something_. She wracked the corners of her brain.

She pretended she was studying. She was a scientist, so she came up with a formula. She needed answers for the following:

Why did she keep freezing when Burke needed her?

Why the hell was she helping her fellow interns steal a heart?

When did she start to give a damn?

And, most importantly:

How could she make it stop?

This was far more desperate than a cry of "somebody sedate me!" Burke had been her anesthesia that time. She needed something stronger this time around.

That's when she became fixated with the idea of having lost her edge. Of course! That's what had gone wrong. When she started this internship, she was cutthroat, she was detached, she was by-the-book. She didn't make friends, didn't form attachments, wasn't a hormonal idiot who slept with attendings.

She tried to go and see Burke. She really did. But she only made it to the window of his room.

So she desperately sought an answer for the chief. He wanted to know what had happened with Denny; she wanted to know how to get her edge back. She figured it was a fair trade.

But he wouldn't tell her. He claimed to not want to be responsible for making her less human.

_Make me less human! _Her mind screamed. If I'm less human, I won't be so desperately craving anesthesia. Something lesser would do. Perhaps she should ask McVet for something, and animal tranquilizer…

She groaned at herself as she paced the halls. She really was losing it.

The nightmare had a way of getting worse. Burke was having tremors. And he offered her a way out of the relationship. Her biggest mistake was the miscommunication between her brain and her mouth. Her brain was screaming supportive words, but they got lost somewhere on her journey to her vocal cords.

Meredith found her by the coffee cart. Her face was blank. She purchased a coffee, and silently leant against the railing with Cristina. She glanced over at her friend.

"You first." Cristina sipped her coffee.

"My mother had an affair with the Chief. She left my Dad for him, but he wouldn't leave his wife. My dog's dying. Derek's giving me looks. Izzie's a freaking headcase."

"Burke told me he wouldn't bear a grudge if I had to leave him. I didn't answer. I am a freaking headcase."

Meredith slipped an arm around her shoulders. "This time, you win."

"Funny how quickly everything can change, huh?"

Meredith sighed, and nodded. "Yeah. Well, I have to go put Doc down, then get changed for the prom."

Cristina was scared in their apartment, without Burke. His absence was so glaringly obvious, and she didn't know how to fill it. She left the lights off. She got changed in the dark.

She quickly stepped into the bathroom before leaving. She reached for his aftershave, and unscrewed the lid. Lifting it to her nostrils, she allowed the scent to waft into her brain. She slowly lowered her hand, screwed the lid back on, and placed it back by the basin.

She dropped to the bathroom floor and cried. For the second time in five years.

Then she went to the prom.


	13. Words I Could Never Say

A/N This is for all my regular reviewers. You guys are the best!

**Chapter Thirteen: Words I could Never Say**

Denny Duquette died that night. Izzie lay stretched beside him, unwilling to leave him. Unable to leave him. He'd already left her, but she couldn't let go.

The night before, Cristina had been judging her. Doubting her love, calling her crazy, for doing this for a man she barely knew.

Cristina knew Burke. She shared his O.R, his food, his bed, his thoughts, his dreams. She knew Burke.

Yet Izzie refused to leave the one she barely knew. And Cristina Yang was nothing if not competitive. Or at least in her mind, this provided a good excuse to do what she'd been aching to do all along.

She went to Burke's room. She watched him flex his trembling fingers, anguish etched into his face. She crossed swiftly to him, and seized his hand. She refused to leave.

In the coming weeks and months, she learnt the full meaning of this choice. Being with Burke had never been so difficult, and she was stretched to her limits. But perhaps she had to endure what she did to realize her choice was limitless.

After the initial terror of losing him began to relax its grip on her, her choice was simple at first. It meant that Cristina Yang, for the first time in her life, was letting her resolve melt.

She lay in his arms one night in his hospital bed, tracing small circles on his chest. She sensed rather than saw him slipping into sleep, but she knew sleep wouldn't come for her. She'd suffered from bouts of insomnia her whole life, and it had returned full force since the shooting. Still, she'd been getting a little more sleep since getting into the habit of sneaking into his hospital room after hours, and spending the night with him. She'd never noticed the expanse of their bed at home until Burke wasn't lying in it, and that was enough to keep her up at night.

Her lids fluttered open and closed intermittently throughout the night, until a hint of grey light crept into the room. Groaning slightly, she shifted, trying to sit up. Burke's left arm immediately tightened around her. "Where are you going?" he whispered.

She smiled into the darkness. "You know I have to go and steal the good patients before the others arrive."

"It's good to know some things never change." He pulled her close for a moment, his lips brushing against her ear. "Thank you for staying. I need you here to sleep. I think I'm going to need you for a lot of things, in the coming months."

Cristina couldn't say anything. She just kissed him reassuringly, before leaving. She knew what meant for him to say this. Because though he held her every night since she walked into the room to claim his hand, he hadn't said much. The scars of her initially walking out on him lingered, and she was yet to discover how deep they ran. So it was a matter of great trust for him to admit his need for her. Cristina vowed to remember.

She remembered, during his mother's stinging accusations. She hardened her shell, and took the comments. She'd do it for Burke. He needed her.

She meditated on it when he lay on their couch, helpless and sullen. She walked home one night to find him reading a gossip magazine, of all things. Preston Burke, catching up on the latest celebrity news? She wanted to pin a picture of that on the hospital bulletin board. It was better than panties. Instead, she ordered him to practice his sutures, and stood by as her boyfriend temporarily transformed into the Chicken Surgeon Extraordinaire.

She recalled that whisper in her ear when she found him in the morgue, desperate with despair, fearful his future was slipping away. She helped him finish the surgery. He needed her for that.

She remembered during endless nights, when insomnia wasn't the problem – when her body was screaming for sleep, but she slogged on through endless pages of diagrams and text. She wouldn't slip up in surgery. She remembered and endured jealousy from her fellow interns, suspicion and crap (quite literally) from Bailey.

She remembered even when he didn't. When he leveled accusations at her in on-call rooms. When she decided enough was enough, and went to the Chief. When he shut the door in her face, and when she walked into the elevator with him.

He _needed _her, dammit. He'd said so himself. She wouldn't let him forget it, even when he wanted to.

Walking into their apartment that evening, after that tumultuous day at the hospital – Cristina had helped Dr. Hahn save George's dad, and Burke had tests for his second surgery – Cristina was exhausted. She collapsed backwards onto the couch, throwing a hand over her face. The silence around her didn't phase her. She couldn't remember what it was to have the apartment filled with laughter, with quick quips, with aroused cries. She couldn't remember anything beyond exhaustion.

So she was startled when Burke broke the silence. "I guess we have a lot to talk about."

Struggling to sit up, Cristina propped herself up on her elbows. "Yeah." She met his eyes, and drowned in their depths. It hurt, just looking at him. But looking away would hurt even more.

"We will. But you know all I can think about?"

"What?"

"When was the last time we had any fun?"

Cristina wracked her brain. Weeks and months stretched on end blurred into each other. "Nothing's really been fun since before the whole 'sleeping during sex' thing. I mean, I did strip for you, but that didn't exactly end well."

The corners of Burke's mouth twitched. Was he actually going to _smile? _Cristina didn't know how to respond.

"Not exactly. But you know what was really fun, and something there should definitely be a repeat of?"

"What's that?"

Burke grinned, and Cristina sat up straighter. "Dirty scrabble."

There was a moments silence, when she stared at him incredulously. "Seriously? _Seriously? _That's what you're thinking about?"

Burke lipped his lips. "It's _all _I can think about. Go get the scrabble board."

"_You _go get the scrabble."

"Fine. I'll get the scrabble board."


	14. Come Out Anyway

A/N I was trapped in a beautiful beach shack for three weeks. It was great, but technology did not exist there. So I owe you guys one big time!!

And the return of dirty scrabble…

**Chapter Fourteen: Come Out Anyway**

With perfect posture and confident strides, Burke crossed the room and took his scrabble board off the shelf. He had all the appearance of a fine doctor; an outside observer could never guess what was going through his head at that moment, but it was anything but medical.

Of course, one would also never guess he'd deceive his colleagues and patients for months also, but Cristina pushed that thought to the back of her mind. They were trying to have fun here, and she was determined that it would be.

Burke sat opposite Cristina, and placed the scrabble board on the coffee table between them. He took the lid off, then went to work turning the letters over.

"I have a new rule," Burke announced as he lay the board out flat.

Cristina raised her eyebrows. "A new rule? But we're only played once before. And this is my game."

"Correction: it's our game, unless there's other people you've been playing with. Do you have something to share, Cristina?"

Cristina stared incredulously at Burke for a moment. After the heartache, the deception and the anguish of the last few months, this is what he wanted to talk about? He was teasing her. She gave a small smile. She sure as hell wasn't going to fight it, this was a Burke she could recognize.

Plus, she hadn't been laid in ages.

"No, nothing to share. What's this new rule of yours?"

"No curse words are permitted."

"You didn't use any last time."

"No, but you did. What, are you scared you can't beat me without them? Though you didn't actually beat me last time…"

She took the bait. "Oh, you are going down. Fine. No curse words."

They drew their letters, and began.

"So, just out of curiosity," Burke began when it was his turn. "When exactly did this game originate?"

Cristina grinned. "During college. My friends and I were really drunk one night, and the party we'd been at was finished. We were in one of my friends dorm rooms, looking through the karma sutra."

"As you do," Burke said wryly.

"We had a friend who had just lost her virginity, and was looking for inspiration. Anyway, my friend Heather thought it would be an inspired idea to spell out all the positions in a game of scrabble. Gradually, it just evolved into 'dirty scrabble.'"

The corners of Burke's mouth twitched as he fingered his letters. "The brilliance that Stanford turns out is astounding." In a swift move, he lay out 'dominate' on the board, and rose. "I think this occasion calls for some wine."

Cristina narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. How did he do that? It seemed he used up all his letters at once every second go. Nobody would have guessed Preston Burke's mind was so far in the gutter it was down the drain?

Upon his return, he handed her a glass of wine, and examined her latest move. "Whipped? Is that to accompany you're earlier entry of 'chains?' Not so imaginative, Cristina." He grinned.

"Fine, you get cocky because you're twenty points ahead. It won't last long."

"Whatever you say."

He was infuriating that night. Cristina wished he'd stopped smirking. How dare he try to beat her at her own game? Again? She couldn't stand the humiliation.

As the number of letters left to draw became increasingly lower, Burke commented, "we haven't set the stakes tonight."

Cristina thought for a moment. She wasn't sure at the outset what Burke's mood would be, but at that moment, it was like the last few months hadn't happened, hadn't wounded them. She was happy for them to be suspended that night, before the healing had to begin. So she decided to push as far as she could.

"If I lose, you get to achieve your magic number tonight. If you lose, you're dressing up in the outfit I bought for you, and you've never worn."

Burke considered this. He had an ideal number of times that he liked to have a woman in a night, that Cristina had only acquiesced to once before, right when she'd first moved in. That was a tempting offer. But at the same time, he really didn't want to wear the outfit. He was still incredulous from the day she'd walked through the door and shown him. He couldn't believe that particular outfit was her fantasy.

Glancing at the score sheet, he slowly nodded. "Deal."

Cristina's score was inching closer as the game drew to a close, but he thought he had her. That was until her wicked smile crossed her face. "I'm going to use the trick that pulled you ahead last time." His smile faded from the moment she lay the letter 'q' down on a triple letter score square. She lined the rest of her letters out, to reveal 'quivering.'

She leant back with a satisfied sigh. "The outfits in my underwear draw. Time for you to go change."

Burke looked at the board in disbelief, and glowered as he stood up. "I'd hardly call it an outfit. They're more embarrassing accessories than anything else."

Cristina laughed out loud, and both of them noticed how welcome the sound was. The apartment had been hollow for months.

She crossed to Burke and lay her hands on his waist, standing on her tiptoes so her lips hovered near his. "Go and get your embarrassing accessories on then, Preston."

He leant down to kiss her, but she stepped away. "Off you go."

With one more glare at her, he stalked into the bedroom.

She decided to give him a few minutes, then she walked into the bedroom. He wasn't in their, and the bathroom door was closed.

Suppressing a smile, she called, "Burke?"

"This isn't fair," his muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

"As if it isn't! Don't be a sore loser."

"I only made you wear a negligee. This is just cruel."

"Come out now, or you have to wear it tomorrow night too."

A moment later, the bathroom door opened. Cristina burst out laughing.


	15. Never Thought I'd Love Someone

**Chapter Fifteen: Never Thought I'd Love Someone**

He glowered at her, as he walked out sullenly. "Now, you can't have that expression. It completely ruins it for me," she chided.

"Ruins it for you?" he asked incredulously. "How am I ever supposed to…perform, with all of this on?"

"Well, you can take the toolbelt off when its time for you to 'perform'. But the hardhat stays on."

"A construction worker. Seriously. This is what does it for you?"

"I remember being fifteen years old, and walking by a construction site on the way home from school. The guys whistled at me, and I looked up. This guy was completely shirtless, and only had on a toolbelt, shorts, and a hardhat. And damn, did he look fine. That was the first time I remember really wanting a man. It's been my fantasy ever since. Now, stop sulking, and get over here."

"You bet I will. I don't want any more reminiscing about other men you've wanted."

If there was one thing Burke could do successfully, it was drive away thoughts of other men. His mouth and hands were everywhere, all over her. Their lovemaking was always passionate, and often intense, but there was a sense of urgency about it that night, as they tried to ease the hurt of previous months.

By round three, they took things at a more leisurely pace. This was the round she finally let Burke remove his hat.

Burke had started to doze as Cristina lay stretched out next to him, looking at his face. The peace there was something she hadn't seen for weeks. Burke content, at ease. Comfortable in his own skin. That man seemed to creep back into their lives that night.

The healing powers of dirty scrabble were amazing.

"Burke."

"Mmm?"

"I'm hungry. Can you make me something?"

"Now?" he squinted at her. "It's the middle of the night."

She grinned sweetly at him. "Um, hello, I won. I'm still calling the shots."

Grumbling, he heaved himself out of bed and into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, she was devouring fried eggs and toast. "So, we need to talk."

Cristina sighed inwardly. The moment had arrived. "Yeah, I know. We will."

"What's wrong with starting now?"

Cristina wouldn't even know where to begin. "It was a rough time, for both of us. But I thought we'd survive, if we did things as a team. But you started saying things, just to hurt me. I wasn't trying to control your life, I was trying to help you."

"Maybe I was in the wrong there. But we were supposed to stay a team. You broke the rules. You told Richard."

"You broke the rules first, you tried to operate without me. You know that was stupid! Don't argue on that point, you know it was. You could have killed him."

"We could have killed everyone. The whole thing was stupid."

Cristina was silent for a moment. "Then why did we do it?"

Burke sighed heavily, and leant back in his chair. "I don't know. It just snowballed. The whole thing was about damage control."

"Well, that's what I was doing, when I went to the Chief. Damage control."

"That was my responsibility, Cristina! Mine, not yours"

"How was I supposed to know you were going to step up to your responsibility? You stopped talking to me. You shut me out. That's the worst betrayal here, Burke. You stepped out on your own. That's now what we're about."

Burke looked at her evenly. "Then I guess we're at a stalemate."

A stalemate?! Why couldn't the man scream and yell and rage like a normal person for once? She definitely had it in her.

"We can't stay at a stalemate. We have to get through it."

"Do you know what I've put up with from you? A hidden pregnancy, you mocking me in my O.R, a fake move-in, you freezing when I was on the operating table, and your damn erratic behaviour that does my head in day in and day out. And now this! What the hell has my life become?"

Finally, some yelling! "Well, you're not a saint, mister. You asked me out and dumped me in the same day, how's that for erratic? You keep me out of surgeries, and you use your professional superiority to punish me for domestic situations. And lately I've jeopardized my whole future to cover for you. What kind of life do you think I have?!"

Cristina stared at him, waiting. Then, he gave a shadow of a smile.

Seriously?!

"And we've come through all that, haven't we? If you are - as you keep vehemently claiming – 'sticking', then we'll move a step past the stalemate. But maybe tomorrow. I'm tired now."

Tired? Just when they were getting warmed up? Rolling her eyes, Cristina followed him to bed. At least she could be sure of something.

Preston Burke was insufferable.

She hated how sexy that made him.


	16. A Little Time

**Chapter Sixteen: A Little Time**

They had it out the next morning, and that night, and several days in a row. They squabbled, yelled, hollered, bickered and screamed it out. And not just about the mistakes of the past months. They yelled about different possible diagnoses for patients, that Burke cooked her fish when she asked for beef, the fact that the alcohol cabinet was low on supplies.

Whether Cristina should use slim or super absorbent tampons. Real, classy fighting, about all the subjects that mattered.

They shout until they were hoarse, but Cristina would watch Burke in amazement. Because he'd always conclude their arguments with a smirk on his face, and a dismissive comment like, "better out than in."

The change in his temperament was mind boggling. All Cristina could deduce was that the truth had lifted a massive weight off his shoulders.

They'd argue until they exhausted themselves, and then they'd sleep soundlessly all night, entwined with each other, before waking up to go at it again in the morning.

Seriously.

They bickered as Burke was being wheeled to the O.R, the orderlies listening in stunned silence.

"I won't be home for a few days, so for godsakes, don't you dare unalphabetize the medical journals."

She rolled her eyes. "Not the sacred medical journals! Relax, I wouldn't do that."

"You did it with my CDs!"

"So I could sort them into genre! I don't want my Bon Jovi and Clash CDs to get mixed up with your Chopin's and Kenny Gs. That is so wrong. But maybe I'll go a little wild and not use coasters why you're gone."

"You think you're going to rile me. It's not going to work."

He was wheeled into the elevator. "Really. You didn't get a flash of terror at the thought of finding water rings all over the apartment when you get home?"

He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Ha! She had him.

"If you don't use coasters, we're never going to play your favourite game again."

A threat to withhold dirty scrabble? That was just cruel.

"Dr. Burke? We need to go down now," a timid orderly chimed in.

Burke met Cristina's eyes. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, you will."

Anyone who witnessed this exchanged figured there must still be a lot of trouble in paradise if that was how they parted before his surgery. There were no declarations of love, obscene physical interactions, or false bravado.

But that was simply Cristina and Burke. They understood each other as the elevator doors closed. All anyone had to do was see it in their eyes.

As the doors closed, Meredith came up behind Cristina. "George will be in there with Derek. He'll be fine."

Cristina turned. "Let's just hope your boyfriend is up to the task this time."

Meredith smiled. "I love that I can finally call him that. He's my boyfriend."

"Kind of not the point here."

"He's up to it. And your boyfriend is more than up to pulling through, going back to surgery to terrorize us another day."

"Grey! Yang!" came a familiar voice behind them.

"Speaking of being terrorized," Cristina muttered in an undertone, as they turned to face their resident.

"Grey, get back on your case with Sloan. Yang, to the pit."

Cristina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was still being punished for the whole tremor thing?

"You'll go crazy if you're not doing something, but you shouldn't be on the O.R floor," Bailey continued. "I'll have you paged when he's out of surgery."

Cristina gave a small, grateful smile. Maybe things weren't all going to hell after all. Bambi still didn't want to talk to her, but that just meant she didn't have to hear about Callie. So really, she was doing well.

She had a grueling day in the pit, wondering why exactly they needed a surgeon to extract a screwdriver from a guys butt. On the outside, she was in control. In actuality, she checked her pager to make sure the battery wasn't dead four hundred and sixty two times before it finally went off.

She collided with Meredith in the stairwell. She looked at her expectantly for a second, before demanding, "well?"

"No complications. Derek says it went smoothly, now we've just got to see what happens when he wakes up."

Cristina groaned. "I say that a thousand times a day to patients. But it's such a pain in the ass to hear."

She'd had the experience of sitting beside Burke in a hospital bed before, and it wasn't an experience she particularly liked. She was at a loss at what to do, and just sort of hovered near the doorway. That was until someone crashed into her back, sending her sprawling forward. She only just managed to catch herself at the end of Burke's bed. She straightened, and turned to fix the offender with a withering stare.

She found Izzie smiling at her meekly. "Sorry."

"What the hell was that?"

"Alex pushed me!"

"I meant to push George," he objected, as they all barreled into the room.

"Oh, and that makes it so much better," Izzie snapped, while Meredith rolled her eyes.

"Enough."

"Could you take it elsewhere? This is Burke's hospital room."

Alex gasped. "No! Really? Stanford sure was lucky to get a brain like you."

"Shut up, Alex," three voices chorused.


	17. Alone With Me

**Chapter Seventeen: Alone With Me**

Preston Burke was back. Preston Burke was _really _back, in every way that counted. He'd successfully completed his first surgery since his own operation that day, and he'd done it without Cristina by his side. For once, this was a good thing. But his eyes flicked up to the gallery as they never had before, seeing if Cristina noticed that his running whip stitch was completed with perfection. He shyly searched for pride in her eyes when he emerged from the O.R. He was rewarded.

Now, she was. Preston Burke, surgeon extraordinaire, had returned. With him came Preston Burke, bedroom extraordinaire. Cristina lay on her back in a pool of sweat. She was quite certain she wouldn't need any more sex for the next fifteen years. He was insatiable these days. Perhaps he'd left a few things out of his 'I am Preston Burke' speech. He needed to add, 'if you think I've left you begging for more, you ain't seen nothing yet,' or 'the time will soon come when I will ruin you for all other men.'

When she wearily turned her head to face him, he had _that _look in his eye. He parted his lips slightly as he looked at her.

"No!" she exclaimed, feeling some energy return. She gripped the sheet to herself, and half tumbled out of bed. "I need to be at the hospital in two hours, and I'm scrubbing in on a craniotomy. Don't you dare even _think _about laying a finger on me."

Grinning, he began to reach out for her. Shrieking, she turned and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Cristina never thought there'd be an occasion when she ran from the bedroom eyes of Burke. But he hadn't let up for a moment, not since the second they'd walked in the door. They'd re-christened every room of the house that night. Twice. And the bedroom several times over. She wasn't sure she'd be able to walk straight in the morning.

He tapped lightly on the door. "Cristina…"

"No! Leave me alone!"

He chuckled. "Come back to bed. I promise I won't touch you."

"I don't believe you."

Sullenly, she made a makeshift bed for herself in the bathtub, lining it with towels. She slept at an awkward angle for about an hour, and hated him in the morning.

Still, the occasional (or as was the case the night before, very frequent) screaming orgasm can do wonders do sustain a person through the day.

"Nurse Debbie is gossiping," Meredith commented, catching up to Cristina in the corridors. Cristina smirked, cracking her neck which was stiff from being in surgery. "So what else is new?"

"Not much. But Burke is walking around with a spring in his step."

She held up a hand. "Don't describe him as having a 'spring in his step.' That is so lame, and so not him."

Meredith smirked. "Fine. A swagger. And you look like hell. Sleepless hell."

Cristina rolled her eyes. But smiled wryly.

"Spill!"

"Best night of sex in my life. But there was a moment last night, when I thought there was too much."

"Cristina Yang? Oversexed? I didn't think that was possible."

At that moment, her beeper went off. She groaned when she saw who it was. "I've got to go."

She met him by the nurse's station. "You paged, Dr. Burke."

"Yes I did, Dr. Yang. I have a case you may be interested in." His eyes captured hers in amusement. Why was he so awake?

"Is that so?"

"Yes. This way."

She fell into a resentful step behind him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so crappy at work. She cursed everyone at the moment. Preston Burke. His parents for conceiving him. Condom manufacturers. Richard Webber, for making interns come in so damn early. Derek Shepherd, for taking so long on a craniotomy. Izzie Stevens, for making Burke come back and get shot, making him lose his mojo, get it back, and thus rendering Cristina to her current state of fatigue.

She stopped abruptly. "Where is this patient?"

He turned to face her. "We're heading towards their location."

"We're heading towards the on-call room."

His mouth slowly curved into a grin. "So?"

"So? Get away from me," she huffed, turning on her heel and stalking away.

That afternoon in the E.R, a young girl came in, having fallen off her bike and impaling herself on a fence. Burke was in with her all day and half the night. Her internal bleeding was an extensive as he had ever seen. But he still managed to save her. All remaining whispers of Burke's questionable competence were effectively silenced.

He found Cristina in the locker room afterwards, as she'd watched from the gallery the whole time. "Did you see?"

"I saw."

He looked levelly at her for a moment, before capturing her lips with his, and pressing her flat against the lockers. He kissed her with a fervor and a passion that made Cristina both long for and dread the night ahead.

Preston Burke was back. God help her.

A/N We're getting close to the end  So I'm trying to be much better and update faster. As always, thanks for all your thoughts and reviews.


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